


Incident

by fatefortuna



Series: Romulan AU [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e04 The Enterprise Incident, M/M, Romulans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:06:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatefortuna/pseuds/fatefortuna
Summary: A sequel to “Balance,” continuing the story in which Spock actually was a Romulan spy in “Balance of Terror.” This one is inspired by “The Enterprise Incident” and takes some dialogue from it, but isn’t a line-by-line retelling, and is set much closer in time. The K/S also becomes more overt in this one.





	Incident

**Author's Note:**

> The Romulan commander’s name, Charvanek, is from the novel Vulcan’s Heart and seems to be one of her more common names in fandom. Her ship’s name, Honor Blade, is from the same book. Thanks to chakoteya.net for the transcript of “The Enterprise Incident”: http://www.chakoteya.net/StarTrek/59.htm

Havraha had been rattled when he boarded the Rihannsu starship. In the space of a few hours, his life, the one he’d built as Vulcan Starfleet Officer Spock, had crumbled into unrecognizable pieces. He’d known it couldn’t last forever, but in the moments he’d allowed himself to imagine his “real” life, his first life as a Rihannsu agent… He’d imagined slipping away quietly, with no one the wiser. Especially not Jim Kirk. Of all people, he’d wanted Jim Kirk to think well of him. To never know Havraha’s name. He’d only wanted Jim to know Spock, and for Spock to belong at his side forever. 

But it wasn’t true, and they both had to face that now. Alone.

Two Rihannsu guards had walked him from the Starfleet shuttle to his father’s command room, where he saw his father’s face in person for the first time in more than twenty years. It looked older, but no less stern. 

Nothing felt real, except the current of shock when he heard his own name on his father’s lips again.

“Agent Havraha. Give your report.”

He gave it. A rote description of the barest facts of his twenty-year history, from successfully posing as a Vulcan entering Starfleet Academy up until now. He focused more heavily on the present, on Starfleet’s current capabilities and positions of their starships.

When he finished, he felt expended. He thought he might be swaying on his feet, but kept his eyes forward, on a blank piece of bulkhead. Not smooth, like the _Enterprise_. Sharp. Shadowed.

His father looked him over for a long moment, leaning back in his chair, keeping the silence. 

“You seem to have lost your fire, Havraha.”

 _You asked me to be a Vulcan for twenty years of my life. What did you expect?_ he thought, but he didn’t have the energy to say that. Or perhaps the fire. 

“An advantage, I should think,” he answered. His voice stayed level, unconcerned. “For a spy.” 

His father considered him again, then nodded. “Perhaps so. You will compose written reports on the Starfleet’s current battle-readiness, technology, and relevant culture.”

“Of course.”

His father nodded him away. Havraha saluted, his fist across his chest in the Rihannsu fashion, and then he went. He wrote his reports, falsifying nothing, although in the back of his mind he knew that he kept some information to himself. 

With Havraha’s initial reports in hand, his father’s ship set course for ch’Rihan, and he was transferred to the patrol ship _Honor Blade_ , under Commander Charvanek, where he could stay near the Neutral Zone and be of the most use.

On his first day as the _Honor Blade_ ’s consultant, he’d met an ally. 

_It must have been terrible to live so close to the enemy,_ in a gentle, testing tone, with a sidelong look, and Havraha had taken the leap. In that moment, he knew what he wanted to do. He didn’t want war. Not for Jim, and not for himself. Not for the Rihannsu. 

Now he was connected to an undercurrent in the Empire, one that believed the Rihannsu should resist the new Praetor’s war. He had to wait for their trust, of course, and he began another, longer document on the subject of Federation culture. Perhaps it would help if he could build some kind of understanding for the humans, and the Federation. Perhaps it would simply be of interest.

He’d passed almost three months this way, waiting, his “unnatural” control of his emotions unnerving the other Rihannsu. He sent official reports through the Commander, and secret ones through the undercurrent.

Now, after a red alert, a Federation starship’s encroachment into their space, he’d been summoned to the Commander’s office. No one told him anything unnecessary -- no one trusts a spy -- but he assumed he was being called to offer advice, perhaps to help question a prisoner.

The commander’s door slid open, he stepped inside, and then he felt all the breath leave his body. He thought he could feel the exhalation standing in the air like a chill, and all he could see beyond it was Jim Kirk, standing there in uniform as if no time had passed at all, hazel eyes meeting his, staring straight into his eyes and looking just as shocked.

 _“Traitor!”_ someone cried, and it wasn’t Jim’s voice, but it might as well have been. Jim’s face agreed.

~

Three months. Three months since Jim Kirk’s best friend had betrayed him and the entire Federation. Jim still hadn’t been assigned a new first officer. They hadn’t wanted to pull the _Enterprise_ back from the Neutral Zone and hadn’t had another ship handy to risk on it. Kirk hadn’t pressed the issue. For now, Scotty was his acting right hand, and did a fine job of it, largely leaving him alone. To stew.

He moved off the turbolift onto the bridge, a ball of barely-contained irritation. Lt. Stiles, his navigator, approached with a PADD. 

“I’ve finished the assignment, sir. The theoretical incursion into--”

Kirk gave it a cursory glance. He saw about what he’d expected. “Yes, Mister Stiles, I can read, and as usual your theoretical evaluations do not tally with mine. Return to your duty and I'll let you know when your work is satisfactory.”

Stiles returned to his position silently, and Kirk settled into his command chair. “Sulu, full sensor scan of the region, please.”

“I did give a full report--”

“Yes, Mister Sulu, that was the past. I'm concerned with the present. Or is it becoming too much for this crew to present me with current information?” Kirk demanded, looking around the bridge. He didn’t make eye contact with Dr. McCoy, who was lurking near Spock’s old station, trying to stare into his soul. 

“No, sir,” Sulu answered, lagging a moment but maintaining his composure. A good officer. “No problem.”

“Then, comply.”

“Sensor scan to one half parsec,” Sulu reported. “Negative, Captain.”

“Very well.” 

He could still feel McCoy’s eyes burning into the back of his head, but he didn’t look around. McCoy had been trying to run a psychological profile on him for the past month, but so far Kirk had managed to avoid it. He knew what everyone would be starting to think, that the strain of Spock’s betrayal was wearing on him. He’d subtly cultivated that impression, especially with his brusque attitude toward Stiles. It could be taken as resentment that Stiles had been right about Spock. And he did resent it, just a little, but he wouldn’t have held Stiles responsible for what Spock had done under any other circumstances. Hopefully this would be the last sharp remark he’d have to make -- with Sulu’s latest scan, the time had come. Now all he had to do was get through the whole rest of the mission without thinking about Spock again.

“Change course. Come about to one eight five, mark three.” 

Sulu looked around at him. “But, sir, that'll lead us directly into the Romulan Neutral Zone.”

“Yes, very perceptive, Mister Sulu. I know where the course change takes us. Execute.”

Sulu wouldn’t argue, not without more evidence. He trusted Kirk, bless him. “Aye, sir. Increasing sensor scan to one parsec. All scanners report clear. Nothing in our immediate vicinity.”

“Better and better, Mister Sulu.” A lie, of course, since Kirk wanted to meet a ship. They had to have patrols, but Starfleet couldn’t reliably detect cloaked ships. He needed the appearance of an empty field for this crazy plan to work, but he hoped someone was out there. 

“Captain, leaving Neutral Zone. Now entering Romulan space.”

The lift doors slid open, and Kirk glanced back to see Mr. Scott entering. “Very well, Mister Sulu.”

Scott stopped at Lt. Uhura’s comm station and asked, “Lieutenant, when did the order come through?” 

She looked up. “Order?”

“From Starfleet. The order to enter the Neutral Zone.” 

“There's been no order I know of, Mister Scott.”

“Surely the Captain couldn't be doing this on his own authority,” Scott pressed, forgetting Kirk was sitting just a few feet away. Another good officer, one who wore his heart on his sleeve. Bless him too.

“If you two have complaints, you can bring them out into the open,” Kirk said casually over his shoulder. It distracted them long enough, and almost as if on cue, they all saw a Romulan warbird decloak on the viewscreen in front of them. 

“Sound Red Alert,” Kirk ordered immediately. This was the tricky part. Starfleet trusted his quick thinking, and he’d have to do the same, hope that he didn’t turn every man, woman, and other person on his ship into cinders. “Battle stations. Stand by main phasers.”

Sirens sounded all over the ship as Uhura confirmed the order.

“Another ship just decloaked,” Stiles announced. “Behind us. Both smaller than us, patrol ships probably, but they’ve got us outgunned now, Captain.”

Kirk didn’t need the tinge of hysteria he heard in Stiles’ voice, he had to add enough of his own pretended mania into the situation already.

“Lieutenant Uhura, code a message to Starfleet Command. Advise them of our situation. Include all log entries to this point.”

“Aye, sir. Captain, I'm receiving a class two signal from the Romulan vessel.”

That was a relief. Maybe everything was going to go according to plan. “Put it on the main viewing screen, Lieutenant, and complete that message to Starfleet Command.” 

Uhura acknowledged, and the view changed to a Romulan ship’s interior, lit in dark reds and purples. The officer they saw was a man, young-looking, thin, with curling brown hair and strong features. He looked so much like… well, the resemblance was superficial.

“You have been identified as the starship _Enterprise,_ ” the officer said, his tone professional. “Captain James T. Kirk last known to be in command.”

“Your information is correct,” Jim said. “This is Captain Kirk.”

“I am Sub-commander Tal of the Romulan fleet. Your ship is surrounded, Captain. You will surrender immediately, or we will destroy you.”

Kirk gestured to Uhura, and she muted the sound. 

“They want something, or they would have destroyed us by now.” He wasn’t sure who he was talking to, without Spock there -- maybe Scott, as first officer, or McCoy, his longtime confidant, but Stiles was the first to answer.

“That would be standard Romulan procedure.”

“It's my ship they want, and very badly,” said Kirk, with a hint of defensiveness. He still had a role to play.

“It would be quite a prize for them, after last time,” Stiles said. He was still bitter over their own loss, and would’ve loved the tables to be turned.

Kirk didn’t answer, just gestured for Uhura to reconnect him. “Save your threats. If you board this ship, I'll blow it up. You'll gain nothing. You understand that Starfleet Command has been advised of the situation?”

Tal had been waiting patiently, knowing full well he was in control of the situation. “The subspace message will take three weeks to reach Starfleet. The decision is yours, Captain.”

Before Kirk could answer, they heard a signal from Tal’s side of the conversation, and the Romulan put a hand up to his elegantly-pointed ear. “Yes, Commander.” He put the hand down. “My commander wishes to speak with you, Captain Kirk.”

“Put him on.” Kirk had to wonder why the commander wasn’t there already. Were they so unimportant?

“The commander wishes to see you and your first officer aboard this vessel,” Tal said. “It is felt this matter requires discussion.”

“Why should we walk right into your hands?” Kirk asked. He had to act as though they hadn’t played right into his own plan. He’d thought to maneuver the other commander into asking for Kirk as a hostage, but that was risky, depended on the other commander. 

“Two of my officers will beam aboard your vessel as exchange hostages while you are here,” Tal volunteered. Kirk had to adjust his perception again -- maybe _my officers_ meant the rank Sub-commander had more authority than the universal translator lent to it.

“What guarantee do we have they'll beam aboard our ship once we're on yours?” Kirk hedged.

Tal gave a small, wry smile, and even that level of emotion was strange on such a nearly-familiar face. “Granted, we do not easily trust each other, Captain, but you are the ones who violated our territory. Should it not be we who distrust your motives? However, we agree to simultaneous exchange.” 

Eminently fair. Kirk hesitated, then nodded. “Give us your transporter coordinates. We're beaming aboard.”

~

Kirk stepped up to the transporter pad with Stiles next to him. He couldn’t spare his real first officer, Scotty, and hadn’t been given a choice in the matter anyway. Someone at Starfleet Command wanted Stiles groomed as a first officer, and approved of the lieutenant’s attitude toward the Romulans. Hence this assignment. Kirk thought Stiles was too hot-headed, too single-minded to be a first officer… but if he was honest with himself, he knew he was only comparing Stiles to Spock. Kirk and Stiles had never had the opportunity to see each other at their best, especially since Kirk had started this one-sided pageant.

He took his position, turning to face outward. “One final order, Engineer Scott. If we do not return, the _Enterprise_ must not be taken. If the Romulans attempt it, you're to fight, and if necessary, destroy yourselves. Is that clear?”

Scott nodded. “Perfectly clear.”

Kirk nodded too, grimly. He couldn’t bring himself to be flippant or hysterical with Scotty looking him in the face. “Energize.”

On board the Romulan ship, a set of helmed guards walked them through shadowed corridors to the Commander’s office. Kirk kept his eyes open, memorizing the route, but also trying to soak up the atmosphere of the place, the sensibility. So many shadows -- but perhaps Romulan eyes were more acute than humans’. 

He also found, to his relief, that Romulans had just as much variety among themselves as humans did. The first Romulan he had ever seen had been Spock’s father, so of course there had been a family resemblance. And Tal, well, for all Kirk knew he could be related to Spock too, or the resemblance could be coincidental. The rest didn’t look so similar, and he could almost forget the pointed ears, upswept eyebrows, especially in these excellent gold helmets…

They filed into a medium-sized room with a desk and several chairs. Kirk judged it to be comfortable, or at least aesthetic, with swaths of different colors and textures on the wall panels. Tal was there, standing. And an elegant woman with a round face and severe eyes, straight dark hair and a red-sided, skirted uniform, seated behind a minimalist desk. The commander. 

She took him in with a glance. “Captain Kirk.”

He smiled a little and dipped his head. It had been his mistake, assuming the commander would be male. “Commander. I'm honoured.”

A flicker of expression -- amusement, or boredom? “I don't think so, but we have an important matter to discuss. And your superficial courtesies are an overture to that discussion.” She looked at Stiles, less impressed. “You are the first officer?”

“Navigator, ma’am,” Stiles answered, clearly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to exchange pleasantries, and he didn’t want to be surrounded by foreign enemies. He shouldn’t have come.

“Our acting first officer was needed to command the ship in my absence,” Kirk interjected, trying to keep her attention on him.

The commander looked between the two of them, processing Kirk’s statement and the apparent lack of any real first officer on the ship at present. She stood and walked to the side of her desk choosing to move on and address them directly. “I see. The matter of trespass into Romulan space is one of galactic import, a violation of treaties. Now I ask you simply, what is your mission here?”

“Instrument failure caused navigational error,” Kirk said, clearly rehearsed. “We were across the Neutral Zone before we realized it, then we were surrounded by your ships before we could get back.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A starship? One of the Starfleet's finest vessels? You're saying instrument failure as radical as you suggest went unnoticed until you were well past the Neutral Zone?”

He shrugged, brushing it off. “Accidents happen. Cut off backup systems malfunction. We were due for overhaul two months ago.” If they had intelligence from Spock, or even long-range scans, they probably knew the _Enterprise_ had been on patrol more than three months with no respite.

Either way, she wasn’t buying it. “I see. But you were able to navigate with this malfunction?”

She’d directed that to Stiles, but Kirk interrupted anyway. “The error was corrected.”

“But I doubt it'll clear you of espionage.”

Kirk bristled. “We were not spying, Commander.”

She moved behind her desk, then pivoted to face him again. “Your language has always been most difficult for me, Captain. Perhaps you have another word for it.”

The universal translator depended on word choice, and confusion was always possible where words had different connotations, but of course she was being rhetorical.

Kirk raised a hand for a too-large gesture. “You're grossly mistaken if you think we were there--”

“Captain,” she said, “if a Romulan vessel ventured far into Federation territory without good explanation, what would a starbase commander do?”

The obvious.

“You see, it works both ways,” she continued calmly. “I hardly believe you are the injured party. Havraha, come in.” 

A side door slid open, and the floor fell out from under Jim’s stomach. It was Spock. Really Spock. Not the phantom Kirk always saw out of the corner of his eye on the bridge, or the person he wished Stiles could be, or the face he saw superimposed on every Romulan in the corridor. Really Spock. And he was just as shocked to see Kirk as Kirk was to see him.

“Traitor!” Stiles cried, almost involuntarily. Kirk made a move toward Spock, but then stopped. He’d seen a flinch, a slight twitch of the head to the side. He couldn’t read Spock’s face, didn’t know what his own was doing, could only see Spock’s deep brown eyes and plead with them to _say it isn’t true…_

A long, long moment of the penny dropping, everyone watching everyone else, Kirk and Spock getting their bearings. Everyone shifted a little, readjusting. Spock looked down, then up again at Kirk, the surprise gone from his now-composed face.

“Yes,” he said, answering Stiles’ accusation, but only speaking to Kirk. “Because I had a duty.”

“A duty to betray your ship!” Stiles nearly shouted. “To get us all killed!”

Spock raised his eyebrows indignantly. No one had died.

“Stiles,” Kirk said, but not firmly enough.

“No! You brought us here for him, didn’t you?!” Stiles cried, pointing at Spock.

“Stiles!” Kirk snapped sharply, in his full role as captain. The reprimand was appropriate, but in the same moment, Kirk realized it could also make the accusation look true… and that was something he could use to his advantage. 

Tal re-entered the room, and spoke briefly to the commander. Kirk hadn’t realized he’d stepped out. He needed to keep his wits about him. 

The commander spread her hands, re-inserting herself into the conversation. “Gentlemen, no matter what you have done in the past, we find ourselves in a situation. Something must be done.”

Kirk hesitated, then nodded.

“Your acting first officer Scott refuses to surrender the _Enterprise_ to our control without direct orders from you,” Tal contributed, his voice a purr.

“Will you give that order, Captain Kirk?” the commander asked. She’d seen his and Spock’s reactions, heard Stiles’ accusation. She knew she had something, even if she didn’t know what she had. Even if none of them knew.

Kirk looked at Spock, visibly hesitating. “I’m… not sure.”

He could feel Stiles’ rage at that.

The commander assessed the captain, then nodded. “Give us a moment.” She beckoned Spock and Tal aside, and they began to speak in tones too low for human ears to discern.

Kirk watched them for a second, trying to guess what they were saying, and how long they’d be saying it. He kept his voice low too. “Mr. Stiles, you will comply with any decision I make, and that is a direct order.”

“Sir, these are Romulans we’re talking about,” Stiles hissed, too loudly. Kirk grabbed his arm, met his gaze, and saw a hint of wildness in his eyes, now that he was really looking. They were on an enemy ship, surrounded by people the lieutenant had despised and dreaded all his life. He’d been briefed that there was a plan, that he should follow Kirk’s lead no matter what, but he didn’t trust Kirk. He didn’t like Kirk’s unwillingness to hate the Romulans, and he was never going to believe that pretending to be won over was part of the plan. All he saw was weakness. And it was too late to do anything about it.

“We can wait,” the commander announced, and Kirk had to attend. “But only for a limited time. We have informed the Rihannsu fleet of your presence here, and they are sending a third ship to meet us. I would hate for the _Enterprise_ to be destroyed, Captain. An unnecessary death bears no glory. You will remain on the _Honor Blade_ to make your decision.”

A prisoner in all but name, who would probably have to watch his ship be crippled or vaporized if he didn’t come to the right decision. But until then, he -- and the _Enterprise_ \-- had time. “Then, madame, I must accept your hospitality.”

He glanced at Spock, but the Vulcan -- no, the Romulan -- had his eyes down.

The commander nodded. “Guards, escort the captain and his navigator to quarters.”

“I won’t stand for this,” Stiles insisted, though she had already turned her face away. 

The lieutenant couldn’t brook that lack of attention, either, and lunged for one of the guards, shoving him off balance. He’d been going for the guard’s disruptor, but the man’s body got in his way, and Stiles changed course, pushing off of him and back toward Kirk. His hands were raised as if to tear, or strangle. Kirk might not be as bad as a Romulan, but at this moment, Stiles still thought he was an enemy.

Spock, the commander, and the other guards were all coming to Kirk’s defense, but there were too many of them. The guards didn’t want to make contact with their superior officers, but got in the way instead. Spock’s hand glanced off Stiles’ shoulder instead of his neck, failing to execute a nerve pinch. Kirk ducked away from Stiles’ hands, but before he could move back in to try and order some sense into him, the commander came in close from behind. She kicked one knee out from under the still-shouting man, then struck his back with a cracking noise that made Kirk wince. 

Stiles crumpled, moaning. At least that meant he was still alive.

Spock crouched on the floor next to him, then looked up at Kirk. “Captain, I would advise you to call for medical assistance.”

So much for _according to plan._

~

Kirk was waiting, under light guard, in a confined area of the medical bay when Bones arrived. He watched silently as the doctor examined the unconscious Lt. Stiles. He should’ve known Stiles wasn’t the right man for this job. Shouldn’t have brought him along, orders be damned. Should’ve kept a closer eye on him, known he was about to snap. Should’ve won Stiles’ trust in the first place. 

“Some spinal damage,” Bones muttered. “I think I got to him in time.”

A couple of hypos full of cocktails meant to sedate Stiles and speed his healing. Then Bones conscripted a Romulan doctor to help re-set Stiles’ back -- to his credit, the Romulan doctor moved gently, careful not to injure the human further with his alien strength -- and then to fetch a back brace. 

When Bones had the brace securely wrapped around Stiles and was fussing over the fastenings, Kirk thought it was safe to approach. 

He put his fists on the flat bed next to the unconscious man, leaning over slightly so he could see McCoy’s face. “How is he, Doctor?”

Bones glanced up, then continued working. “He’ll live. He may make a full recovery, if he can be kept still long enough.”

Kirk nodded. Better chances than he’d hoped, anyway.

He lowered his voice even further. “Bones, Spock is here.”

Bones looked up sharply. “What?”

“He’s here. Stiles told them he thinks I’m trying to defect, or trying to come and get Spock, I’m not sure which.”

“Are you?”

Kirk narrowed his eyes in a glare, and Bones _humph_ ed in amusement. Kirk couldn’t deny it, he needed the ruse, and McCoy knew the captain wouldn’t show his hand. At any rate, even though Jim hadn’t come here for Spock, he had to decide what to do with him now that he’d found him. 

A door slid open, and the commander swept into the room, flanked by guards. She surveyed Stiles, then turned her attention to McCoy. “How fares the lieutenant?”

McCoy straightened respectfully. “He’ll live, with the proper medical attention.”

Charvanek nodded. “Then you may stay and tend him. Soon it will make little difference whether one chooses the _Enterprise_ , or the _Honor Blade._

She gave Kirk a meaningful look -- _we could be allies, and our ships sisters_ \-- and led her guards out again. One of them gestured Kirk out too, leading him to his quarters and cutting off his conversation with McCoy, at least for the time being.

Stiles didn’t have what it took to hack it on this mission. Jim would just have to hope that Bones did.

~

Havraha met Sub-commander Tal where two corridors connected, greeting him with a nod. Although it might seem less private than the small alcoves and nooks dotting the ship, it was a better choice -- two people could pass in a hall for any reason, and they could see anyone approaching before the other person could hear their words. In an alcove, anyone could be standing around the corner.

“I apologize, Havraha. I had no time to give you any warning about our guest.”

Havraha waved a hand. “It is nothing. I’m sure Commander Charvanek wished to witness my reaction.”

Tal had probably wanted the same thing, but the apology was a kind gesture. Tal inclined his head, accepting Spock’s answer.

“I have no doubt that my conversation with the captain will also be monitored,” Havraha added.

 _A golden opportunity, if he did come for you_ , she’d said in her office, when she’d spoken to him and Tal alone. _You will be the one to interview him. Convince him of the welcome that awaits, if he joins us._ But that didn’t mean he’d be able to do it in private.

“Of course,” Tal agreed. “The commander prefers not to leave such things out of her own hands.”

Tal should know. He was the commander’s nephew, and had risen with her through the ranks. But even Tal wasn’t yet sure if Charvanek would be their ally for peace, or if she’d thrown in her lot with the new, bloodthirsty Praetor.

“Can he be trusted not to hurt you?” Tal asked, referring to Captain Kirk. 

Havraha gave it a moment of consideration. Human emotions were complex, and their psychology not as simple as it first appeared, but he didn’t think Jim would injure him, even in anger. And although he didn’t believe for a second that Jim would disobey orders and risk an interstellar war to find him, he absolutely knew that Jim wouldn’t have done it just to _kill_ him. 

“You don’t need to worry,” Havraha sighed, suddenly weary. He hadn’t wanted to wonder about these things.

“If something could be done, it could be the key to our movement’s trust,” Tal said, gauging his posture. 

Havraha gathered himself and nodded. “I will try, but I can make no assurances.”

“Of course.”

Havraha dipped his head and moved to walk away. He had been told to speak to Kirk as soon as the captain was settled in guest quarters.

“And Havraha,” Tal added, “I would like to warn you of one other thing. The ship Commander Charvanek summoned is your father’s.”

He’d thought as much. But he had no plan, and increasingly little time to think of one before it was all out of his hands entirely.

~

Havraha sent a chime into Kirk’s room to announce himself, then instructed the door to open. He stepped into the guest quarters and looked around for Jim, finding him admiring one of the wall hangings. Kirk didn’t acknowledge him at first, and Havraha had a few moments just to look. 

His captain hadn’t changed much. He looked a little drawn, perhaps, but anyone would under these circumstances. The steady gaze, the fall of hair, the curve of his stance, were all just as he remembered. 

Havraha felt weightless, like he was standing on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ again, and they could carry on like they’d been before.

But they couldn’t. All that was over now. He tried to focus on the last time he’d seen Kirk, just a stony face on the other side of the brig’s force field. 

“I’ve been informed that Lt. Stiles should recover,” Havraha said.

Kirk nodded, glancing back at him. “I saw you try to give him a nerve pinch. I don’t know if he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

Havraha would always try to minimize injury and loss of life. He’d learned that from Kirk, and it was part of him now, part of the new self Havraha was trying to understand. He just nodded, accepting that Kirk had noticed, but he hadn’t done it for him.

They were silent for a moment, and Havraha couldn’t tell if it was companionable or not. He spoke first. “Why are you really here?”

“Why are you?”

Havraha raised his eyebrows in surprise. “My duty, captain.”

Kirk made a negating gesture, turning his head away. “Don’t talk to me about duty.”

“Gathering information for the Rihannsu Empire was my only interest when I entered the Federation,” Havraha began.

“And that’s exactly all you came away with,” Kirk interrupted, with a bitter edge.

Havraha moved closer insistently. “No. You underestimate yourself. And I went to Starfleet Academy, the same as you did. I was an officer, the same as you are. I felt my duty, captain. I did not do any of this lightly.” 

Kirk finally looked at him again. He knew the emotion in his voice was more than Kirk had ever heard from him, and he could see it was unsettling.

“It was your choice,” Kirk said.

“It was the only choice possible. I had a first duty, to… my people. My oaths. I had… hoped… you would understand.”

Kirk rubbed his face. “I don’t want to understand.”

Havraha smiled faintly at the protest, because he knew it wasn’t true, but it would still probably never happen. “I must repeat my question. Why are you here?”

“Maybe it’s for you,” Kirk said, with a gesture of throwing something aside. Himself? His duty? Human gestures were so vague. “You could still come back with me. We’ve gotten out of tighter places.”

Havraha made another negating gesture. It wasn’t in Kirk’s nature. “You would never endanger the _Enterprise_ for a personal feeling, even if it existed.”

Kirk laughed sharply, and gave him a grudging smile. “Ah. Yes. My human emotions. Probably not so different from your Romulan emotions, after all this time. You were very good at pretending, Mr. Spock.” 

“Havraha.”

“What?”

“My name is Havraha, Captain. Havraha ir-Ra'tleihfi tr’Ahaefvthe.”

Their eyes met, and when Havraha moved to turn away, Kirk let out a frustrated noise and reached to grab his arm. “ _Spock…_ ”

The contact set off a frisson of telepathy, an echo of all the other times Spock had used his abilities -- the atavistic mental powers that made him the perfect choice to pose as a Vulcan. It echoed with all the previous times they had been close, so close together. Part mental connection, part history, both of them remembering, seeing each other remember.

The mutual knowledge that there was, indeed, a personal feeling. 

Havraha moved his arm out of Jim’s hand, and Jim let him. 

Jim was still looking at him, almost mystified now. “We didn’t we ever…?”

“Because I didn’t want to lie to you,” Havraha answered quietly, moving away, turning himself toward the door. “I didn’t want it to happen that way.” 

“You lied to me anyway.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too,” Jim said quietly.

Havraha took a breath. He should forget everything that had just passed between them because it was over now and it wasn’t coming back. They had confirmed much in the past few moments, and still Havraha knew without any doubt that Jim would always be a starship captain. 

Havraha gathered himself. “There was never a possibility between us.” 

He could hear Jim moving, straightening his hair, taking a breath and trying to decide what to say. 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re dressed like that,” Kirk finally said, sighing. Havraha glanced down -- he could imagine that the regulation Rihannsu uniform was putting Kirk on edge.

He inclined his head and left the room, returning to his own quarters to find one of his few off-duty garments. He walked mindfully, practicing his Vulcan exercises, trying to work through his feelings. 

In his quarters, after a moment’s hesitation, he chose a blue tunic, unlike his Starfleet uniform, but of a similar color. 

When he returned, Kirk was gone.

Havraha swore and thumbed the communicator on his wrist to sound the alarm.

~

Spock had left the door unlocked. Kirk surprised the guards and left them unconscious inside the room, then retraced his steps to find the medical bay. His borrowed disruptor took care of the guards there, too.

He moved to Stiles’ side, waving away McCoy’s surprised blustering. “We have a mission, Doctor. Top-secret orders from Starfleet Command. We’ve got to get this ship’s cloaking device and get out of here before that other ship blows the _Enterprise_ to pieces.”

“What about Spock?” McCoy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“What about Spock, Doctor,” Kirk said tightly, starting to undo Stiles’s restraints.

“Just a minute, this man’s suffered a serious spinal fracture, he hasn’t had enough time--”

“It’s a risk he’ll have to take, unless he wants to stay here.”

McCoy couldn’t argue with that, and helped support the lieutenant’s weight, letting Kirk lead the way.

“I spotted the control room on the way past,” Kirk said, more to himself than McCoy. “Either that or a toxic waste disposal unit, judging from the symbols.”

“Of all the blasted…” 

Good. As long as McCoy was complaining, he wasn’t asking Jim about Spock.

They found the room with only a few false starts. Kirk lowered and re-raised a protective force field as they passed through the door.

 _The Romulans aren’t the only ones with intelligence officers,_ he thought, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

McCoy eased Stiles to the floor, then went to stand watch while Kirk disengaged the large, glowing orb that powered the cloaking device. If Starfleet Intelligence had been correct, this was all they needed not only to disable the device on the Romulan ship, but also to reverse-engineer it in a lab.

He’d only been working a minute or two when McCoy attracted his attention, and they both ducked behind machinery. A second later, Kirk heard the footsteps too.

“Jim!” Spock called from the door.

Spock was too smart for his own good, too smart by half. 

Kirk stood and kept working on the device. “Just let it go, Spock. Let us go.”

“We only have a few minutes before others will follow me,” Spock said. He was pressing himself against the wall to get the best view of the room inside, trying to catch Kirk’s eye, but Jim didn’t want to look at the naked desperation on his friend’s face.

“We’ll be gone before then.”

McCoy climbed up from the corner where he’d thrown himself. He looked glad to see the Vulcan -- the Romulan. “Spock! You green-blooded bastard, I--”

“Doctor, please,” Spock begged.

Bones looked back at Kirk. He didn’t want to leave Spock, couldn’t believe in this moment that Spock was the enemy, after all this time. “Jim…”

“We only came here for the cloaking device,” Kirk said tightly.

“Is that even true?” Bones asked. “Don’t forget, you dragged me here with no explanation!”

“Dammit, Bones…”

Jim passed a hand over his face, closing his eyes. He needed a moment of stillness, just a moment to think, all the damn thinking he’d done over the past three months hadn’t been enough, but he couldn’t have a moment. 

“I don’t know what’s true anymore,” he said to McCoy, then looked at Spock. “I want you to come back with me.” 

“As a prisoner? I can’t do that.”

“You saved the _Enterprise_. I could make a statement on your behalf.”

Spock shook his head, telling Jim not to be ridiculous. “I made a decision to protect you, and my former crew. By doing so, I lost Starfleet’s trust, and I will not gain it again.”

Kirk bowed his head. He couldn’t deny it.

“It is your best destiny to be a starship captain, Jim,” Spock said quietly. “I am something else. An agent of peace now, I hope. But not of Starfleet. I made my decision for you, not for them.”

Kirk twisted one last control, and the unit lifted, ready to be taken. He stared into its foggy white depths and the glimmers of light inside. 

“Why did you follow me here, then?”

Spock looked away, realizing he didn’t know the answer. “I suppose… I wanted to tell you that. And to say goodbye. One last time.”

Spock turned his back to the door, and Kirk lifted the cloaking device out of its cradle. 

A hundred missions, maybe more. A thousand days on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , with Spock at his side. His best officer. His best friend. The one person he would’ve chosen to be with, to touch, if he’d thought Spock wanted it, if Jim had been able to let anyone get that close. 

He laughed, silently. All the times he and Spock had shared their minds… he’d let him get that close, and closer. Just not in the way either of them had expected. _Spock_ wasn’t the way Jim -- or Spock -- had expected. And even if the _Enterprise_ was Jim’s destiny, and he couldn’t deny that, he wasn’t ready to go back, not to that bustlingly empty bridge where his friend should be within arm’s reach, but wasn’t. He couldn’t do it, not now, when neither of them could erase what they’d both felt in Kirk’s plush cell not too long before. He couldn’t leave without finding out who Spock really was, or he’d be empty the rest of his life.

He carried the cloaking device to Stiles, leaning it up against the lieutenant’s unconscious body. Then he straightened, looking at the familiar lines of Spock’s back through the forcefield. 

“Spock… Havraha,” he said, and Havraha turned. Kirk smiled, his eyes glinting steel, knowing what he was about to do. “There are always possibilities.”

~

Havraha pulled his disruptor when he heard footsteps in the corridor, arranging himself with Captain Kirk to appear as if they hadn’t been in the room very long. 

Commander Charvanek, flanked by Tal and her security guards, swept into the room. She cast no more than a glance around, then raised an eyebrow at him.

“The cloaking device is gone,” Havraha reported promptly, even though she could clearly see that, and there was no other explanation for how the _Enterprise_ could have suddenly disappeared and made its escape. “Dr. McCoy and Lt. Stiles must have beamed away with it.”

They had done exactly that, although McCoy had hated it all the way down to his namesake bones, had cursed both of them with colorful Earther expressions that Havraha had never heard before.

 _If you stay, I have a plan,_ Havraha had said, and Jim had, inexplicably, stayed.

And he did have a plan, half-formed as it was, since he hadn’t expected Jim to agree. 

So far as he’d currently worked it out, it depended on Charvanek not having them both executed.

“Captain Kirk assisted my efforts to locate the prisoners,” Havraha said.

Charvanek assessed them both. “To let the enemy escape once is understandable, when outmatched,” she said calmly. “To let it happen again starts to look like carelessness. I will ask you to confirm your oath -- are your loyalties to the praetor, or the Rihannsu?”

Havraha started, a mere flicker of his eyes, but he knew she’d seen it. That wasn’t the oath he’d expected, and she’d phrased it as if “the praetor or the Rihannsu” were interchangeable, an alternative to his possible loyalties to Starfleet and the Federation. But they weren’t.

“My loyalties are to the Rihannsu,” he said, meeting her gaze. He saw her smile, faintly.

“Very well, Agent Havraha. Please return the captain to his chambers. We will speak more of this.”

Havraha saluted, raising his fist to his chest. She nodded to him, and to the captain, then exited without further comment. Tal nodded to Havraha with the same faint smile before he followed her.

Charvanek was an ally too. And Jim was at his side again, if only for a little while. Havraha glanced at him, saw the smile of a man alight, ready to act. For the first time, they were on the same mission. Havraha smiled too.


End file.
